


Consumption

by 50251sid



Category: The Borgias, The Borgias (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Duelling, F/M, Family Secrets, Nightmares, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2851442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50251sid/pseuds/50251sid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucrezia cannot cope with Cesare's absence</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consumption

_She is returning from Cesare’s funeral. The undertaker’s carriage drops her off at her home, and she enters the house, which is silent and filled with shadows. She gazes out of the window, framed in lace curtains, and sees the carriage drive off, its four black horses bedecked with black plumes, and she knows she is now alone. Completely alone. She turns around to face the emptiness, and the panic slams into her._

_She screams._

 

In the bed beside her, Cesare jerks awake. He gathers her to him and, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep, asks, “Was it the dream again?”

She sobs. She cannot speak.

“I’m here, my love. Right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He rocks her in his arms, stroking her hair, crooning to her.

She weeps, her tears hot against his bare chest.

“Sweetest, it’s all right. Wake up now. I’m here.”

“Are you, Cesare? Are you really here?”

“It was just a dream, Lucrezia. Just that damn dream again.”

 

She still carries the scars of their separation. Of the time they spent apart when he went into hiding and she had to stay behind. That was three years ago, yet she still has nightmares. Still fears that it will happen again, that he will go away from her.

 

She had fallen apart, little by little. Unable to sleep. Unable to eat. Unable to concentrate. Unable to exist. Her mother was the first to notice. The weight loss. The dark circles under her eyes. She would sit and stare at nothing, only becoming animated when Cesare was mentioned, and then lapsing back into brooding silence. She moved through the house like a spectre, her skin ashen, her lips white. Only her eyes possessed color—blue and burning with anguish.

When her brother had to flee from the law for killing a man in a duel, Lucrezia’s downward spiral was immediate and dramatic and terrifying.

 

“She’ll adjust,” her father had said, but he had been wrong.

 

Entertainments were offered to her. Diversions. A kitten. A charming and handsome and witty companion.

 

“She’s sick, Mr. Borgia. Getting sicker every day.”

“I know, Mrs. Borgia. She misses her brother. She can’t be consoled. I don’t know what to do with her.”

 

When Lucrezia cut her wrists, her family knew that they had to take action.

 

A trusted messenger was dispatched. Cesare’s reply was terse.

“Send her to me at once.”

 

“Impossible, Mr. Borgia. She’s only sixteen. Besides, we shouldn’t give in to this hysteria of hers.”

“Call it what you want, Mrs. Borgia, but she cannot continue as she is. Either we send her or he will come for her himself. And likely be caught.”

“But how do we know that, if she goes with him, she won’t be just as miserable away from her parents and her home?”

He spoke quietly.

“I don’t see that happening.”

 

Faced with Lucrezia’s deteriorating physical and mental health, the parents finally agreed that she must no longer be apart from her brother. Stating that he was taking his daughter to a sanatorium, Mr. Borgia accompanied her on a long journey by coach to a destination he did not reveal. Mrs. Borgia, in hushed tones, gave the ladies who called upon her to understand that Lucrezia would likely be away for a prolonged period of time.

“We fear it’s the… _consumption_ ,” she whispered, and that put an end to nosy inquiries.

After several weeks of travel, Mr. Borgia and Lucrezia arrived at their destination and were met by Cesare. He had grown his dark hair to shoulder length and was dressed in clothing better suited to a common laborer than the son of one of the most prominent families in the southern United States. He had brought an extra horse for his father to ride, but he seated his sister in front of him on his own strong bay stallion. Trembling and weeping, she clung to him during the ride to the farmhouse which he was occupying.

Upon arriving, Cesare escorted Lucrezia to the room which would now be hers, washed her face and hands, undressed her to her chemise and tucked her into bed for a much-needed rest.

 

Seated with his father at a rough-hewn table, Cesare poured coffee into two enamel cups.

“It appears that you brought her here in just the nick of time, Father. I almost didn’t recognize her. She looks frighteningly ill.”

“Indeed, she is ill. Wasting away for missing you. She blames herself for your current predicament, since the duel you fought was for her honor.”

“How can I convince her that it wasn’t her fault? No man who _is_ a man would let such a calumny go unchallenged.”

“Just what was it young Mister Robertson said about your sister? You never would tell me.”

“I still won’t. I would blush to repeat such a remark.”

“Cesare, did he imply that there was ‘impropriety’ between you and Lucrezia?”

“Father…”

“Because I know there is. And has been for some time.”

_“How dare you?”_

“I dare because I am your father, and I know my children. Of course you had to call Robertson out, but I know he spoke the truth.”

“If you suspected such a thing, why did you not confront me?”

“I preferred not to force you into lying to me. Your bond with your sister is such that you will never give her up, so there was no point in demanding that you do so.”

“Does Mother know?”

“Oh, I think she suspects, but she has never spoken of it. Perhaps now we all should. Get it out in the open.”

“You can accept…this?”

“Make no mistake. I do not condone your relationship. But neither will I allow my daughter to languish unto death, pining for you. If you are what she requires to thrive, then so be it. But you must make some changes to your situation. This house in its present state is unfit for a lady. And you must have a staff to look after her.”

“Father, I am a fugitive. I must appear to be a person of no consequence, attract as little attention as possible.”

“I won’t stand for it. Lucrezia living like a pauper. She must at least have a maidservant.”

“No, Father. Even if it were wise, I don’t have the means to hire anyone.”

“I will establish a line of credit for you at the bank.”

“Do that and you will have painted a target on my back. Lucrezia and I must remain nondescript. Father, you brought her to me. Have confidence that I will look after her.”

 

Unwilling to discomfit his father by openly sharing his sister’s bed, Cesare spread a blanket in front of the hearth and stretched out to sleep.

When he heard her scream, he wrenched himself awake and rushed to her side. She was sitting up in bed, her hands tangled in her long, golden curls, her eyes staring wildly and her mouth open in a desperate shriek. He enfolded her in his arms and rocked her, calling to her to wake up, reassuring her that all was well. She stopped screaming, but had begun to sob as she flung her arms around him.

“I dreamed you were dead.”

“Baby, my poor Baby. I’m fine. I’m right here with you.”

“Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. Ever.”

He slept with her in her bed that night, his body wrapped around hers. She clutched his arm as it encircled her.

 

Startled awake by his daughter’s shrill scream, Rodrigo was reassured by the sound of his son’s pounding footsteps rushing to her room. Indeed, Cesare would look after her.

 

_They have now lived together for three years, and she has been happy, keeping house, displaying a sunny and cheerful demeanor. It is only at night, in the dark, that her fears assail her. She dreams of him dying. Of him being sent away from her. Of him boarding a train and her running after it, pleading with him not to leave. And she screams._

_The dreams come less frequently as time goes by, but they still come._

_Cradling her in his arms, he sleeps at her side. Every night._


End file.
